


Late Dinner

by bananas_are_love



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Canon, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), X-Men: Apocalypse Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6991459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananas_are_love/pseuds/bananas_are_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Spoilers for X-Men Apocalypse] There is someone in the kitchen to make dinner after training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the spoiler warning!
> 
> Since I can't, for some stupid reason, publish a review (aka: my personal screaming about this film I'VE SEEN OVER A WEEK AGO) yet, this will have to do as an outlet of my feelings. So I put on all the OTP playlists and finally typed out what was the headcanon since right after watching the movie. D: It's 2am so this might be a bit rushed, but I had to get it out.

It’s alright for the first training. Neither particularly good nor especially bad, considering that only Jean has had a few lessons before fighing. The others have no idea how to control their powers. They’ll learn, though. The Professor is hopeful.

 

(That’s just what he is like.)

 

Still. His memory from over 20 years ago might be failing him, but he can’t help thinking that training used to be more _fun_ back then. Maybe it’s because he was just as inexperienced as the kids back then. Or that wasn’t a gap of two decades between Raven or him, or that he could still run mile after mile with Hank back then. Or maybe it was the fact that he was madly in love for the first time in his life, and that it was requited.

 

He is madly in love right _now_. Charles can’t help it. He wishes he weren’t. The first look at Raven a few weeks ago, when she came to the school, determined, alarmed, beautiful, had reminded him right away of what he had lost. Not just her, but also Erik. Angry, passionate, beautiful Erik.

 

Washington ten years ago still seems like a dream. To think that a time travelling beast of a man had stormed into a mansion to get him to change history, Raven had almost killed a man, Erik had been shot and left again… It seems so distant now. He watched Raven during the training and has to admit it: She has a knack with these kids. She gets them, and it feels as if the school were the right place for her. It could be the right place for Erik, after all, couldn’t it? For Raven and Erik, the two people he loves most, even after years of separation, are so alike.

 

But maybe Erik is right. He doesn’t belong here, and it’s foolish to assume he could feel as if this were his home when he had a real home with a wife and a child destroyed just weeks ago.

 

Erik doesn’t belong with him.

 

Charles sighs and turns the Danger Room controls off. It’s not just the kids, he is probably also to blame for the quality of the training. He was way too distracted by his thoughts about Erik leaving and replaying their conversation in his mind. Just five weeks by his side. Five weeks. He had hoped to convince him to spend a few more, but it was hopeless. Erik had packed up a suitcase this morning and said goodbye to the students before most of them had turned in for the night. Erik always has a goal, a plan, even more so now that he is not distracted by being a known fugitive. He just didn’t want to talk about his ideas this time, and Charles let him be. He was just happy to have him in the house for a limited period of time, to know that Erik was sleeping right across the hall, to know that he could feel him in his mind if he wanted to. They had played chess in the evenings, with a few glasses of whatever, but never with much conversation. It had been a quiet companionship, an entirely peaceful one. A first time for the pair of them. What Erik said to him before leaving about protecting the school might have been the harshest words to come across his lips in those precious five weeks. Even those had been flavoured rather with care and worry than with spite.

 

They hadn’t gone to bed together. They hadn’t even kissed, rarely hugged or touched. Charles wanted to, desperately. He still wants. The spot where Erik just touched his shoulder itches. He yearns to relearn Erik’s beauty, count the scars that were added since he last was able to examine them all. He wants to feel Erik’s arm around him or Erik’s head in his lap or the faint touch of Erik’s fingers on his spine. Charles knows that Erik is still heartbroken and he never tried to impose, but oh, how he wanted to. He burnt with it.

 

He wheels down the hallway to the lift. Raven and the kids are headed right off to the showers  - it’s likely they will fall right into their beds after, but maybe there’s a chance at least Raven will join him for a glass of wine if he pushes the right buttons. They still have a lot of catching up to do, the school does not manage itself after all and there are rarely opportunities to talk. Until then, a cup of tea to calm his mind would be nice. He heads for the kitchen.

 

Charles does a quick check to make sure there aren’t any stray pupils looking for a midnight snack or someone raiding the fridge for a forbidden beer. But most minds in the mansion are quiet, some of them sleeping, some reading or listening to the radio, and there’s Peter in front of the TV with a glass containing something which is definitely alcoholic. But he’s already in his twenties and it’s not like Charles could prevent him from stealing Brian’s good old scotch from the cabinet in his study. Scotch doesn’t sound bad right now, actually.

 

It’s probably the thought about a sip of burning liquid down his throat that distracts him from an empty human shaped spot in his mind, and that’s why Charles almost crashes against the fridge as he enters the kitchen.

 

Erik has shucked off his jacket and there’s only the turtleneck, and oh, isn’t that a familiar sight. Charles would think it’s a projection, if it weren’t for the ugly helmet Charles only vaguely recognises. It seems to have the same effect most of Erik’s helmets have: it blocks Charles out. He would try to feel offended if he weren’t so glad to see Erik.

 

In particular to see Erik _smile_ as he notices Charles has entered the kitchen. Erik is dealing with some cooking devices -how on earth did Charles miss the smell of eggs sizzling in a frying pan and bread in the toaster?-, but now he’s putting down the bowl and the spoon he’s been holding and takes off the helmet in one swift motion. Charles is flooded with the beautiful mind he has gotten to relearn the past few weeks, and he almost weeps because he thought he’d lost it again. Erik’s thoughts jumble through the kitchen, trust and love and abashment for some reason.

 

“Erik! What are you doing here?”

 

Charles hopes for something that is not _I forgot something_ , or _Actually it’s time to declare war on you again you fool._ All he gets is: “As you can see, I’m preparing dinner.”

 

Erik seems to realise that this is not actually a sufficient explanation, so he adds: “Could not ruin the surprise, could I?”

 

He sits down at the counter, facing Charles. There is a faint smile hanging on his lips, but it’s rapidly vanishing. Erik is nervous, it’s tangible in the air, and to reassure him, Charles takes his hand. But he cannot bring himself to answer Erik, he still is too amazed to see him.

 

“Charles Xavier speechless? I’ll put that in my diary, old friend.”

 

“Indeed.” Charles is still unsure how to reply to this wonder, but he can't help but blurting out: “But why, Erik?”

 

Erik gazes into his eyes and murmurs: “I could just ask you to just look”, and taps at his temple, “but I suppose you won’t let me down this easy.” The pans move from the stove and oh, Charles did not notice the burnt smell in the kitchen. He is too focused on stormy eyes and a shaky hand in his.

 

“When I wanted to leave, a few hours ago”, Erik starts, looks down, swallows, and grips Charles’ hand a little tighter. “When I left, I passed by a room with an open door and a lot of visible clutter.”

 

“That must have been Hank’s old tech lab”, Charles whispers automatically, and Erik continues.

“Well, yes. There was a lot of stuff, and under some wires and on an old wheelchair, I saw this.” He knocks on the helmet. It sounds hollow. Charles remembers now why he recognised that helmet. It used to be one of Hank’s test helmets he built to find out whether Charles could break through mental or manual barriers blocking his telepathy. Specifically, breaking through Erik’s helmet to make Magneto see reason.

 

“I didn’t even have to think twice then. I don’t want to be that person anymore. And I fear that I will eventually become this person again if I leave now.”

 

The question is on the surface on Erik’s mind, but he doesn’t dare asking it. He still doubts that Charles will let him stay. It’s so frustrating that Charles would like to just grab him and not let go, or touch his mind, but he guesses that Erik needs a verbal reaffirmation now.

 

“I want you to stay. Listen, Erik. I want you to stay. Please stay.”

 

They sit there quietly in the kitchen for some time, neither of them saying a word, just sending  thoughts and feelings back and forth. The smell of slightly burnt bread and eggs is hanging in the air. It feels meaningless and undignified. It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for way too long. They should have shared those thoughts years ago. Still. This is what it comes down to in the end, and Charles is glad. Just two men in love, forever disagreeing about the important things, but sure of their love for each other.

 

After a while Erik clears his throat and asks: “I suppose teaching history is out of questions, but what about languages? A bit of combat? If I promise not to compromise any of your students.”

 

He grins, but Charles doesn’t even feel like smiling. How could Erik ever even think that he’s banned from teaching anything? Why does he still feel like he needs to proof himself worthy?

 

“Erik”, Charles breathes, “I don’t think you understand, love. You can do whatever you want. I trust you completely.” He squeezes Erik’s hand again. “But how about we’ll talk about that tomorrow? I know I am exhausted, and you need sleep too, contrary to popular belief among the students.”

 

He’d like to lead Erik to his bedroom, to finally show him how much he actually missed him, not just the past weeks but the last ten years, and the ten years before that, and his whole life up to the point where he pulled a furious and stunning man out of the water. Erik seems to listen in and gently rebuffs him with a kiss on his bald head.

 

“Give me some time, Charles. I will come back to you, eventually, and I expect the right side of the bed to be empty. Just don’t go off and marry some space princess in the meantime, if you please.”

  
Tea and scotch, eggs and toast are long forgotten. Charles laughs, and strokes Erik’s fingers between his. Late dinners have never been more wonderful, even the ones when he actually ate.

**Author's Note:**

> Ughhh, they make me feel things.
> 
> If you happen to stumble across grammar mistakes or typos, please point them out in comments or via message - thanks a lot!


End file.
